The Re-Education of Oliver Queen
by Layla Reyne
Summary: A series of vignettes following Oliver Queen's attempts at a normal life, with a certain blond IT girl as his tour guide. Written for the Olicity Flash Fic Challenge.
1. Into the Wild

**The Re-Education of Oliver Queen**

**FF#1 / Chapter 1: Into the Wild **

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **A series of vignettes following Oliver Queen's attempts at a normal life, with a certain blond IT girl as his tour guide. Written for the Olicity Flash Fic Challenge.

**A/N:** Prompt #1: "Into the Wild". Many thanks to SmoaknArrow for organizing this awesome hiatus project. Unedited versions will appear on my tumblr page, with edited versions (thanks as always to Sandra for the beta work!) posted here on FFN. Also, HUGE THANKS for all the great reviews, favorites and alerts for Home. Your feedback is so very much appreciated!

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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"No way in hell am I going in there."

"You have got to be kidding me," Felicity scoffed, rolling her eyes hard at Oliver over the roof of her car. "After everything we've been through, _this_ is where you draw the line?!"

"No way," he repeated, slamming shut the passenger door.

Blue eyes locked with hers, Oliver's were wide and filled with a terror he usually reserved for when Thea (or Laurel) were in dangerous situations. And those lips she'd dreamed of way too often were pressed together in a tight, grim line, as his nimble fingers tapped nervously against the roof of her car.

Burning buildings, no problem.

Minefield Island, right at home.

But asking Oliver Queen to step into a Costco was apparently the equivalent of throwing a bear cub out of the cave and into the wild.

Time to play Mama Bear then.

"Oliver," she snapped, drawing his attention back to her. "I know this is a brave new world for you, but people go in and out of Costco every day and live to tell the tale. You have a new apartment to fill, on a budget, which I know is a foreign concept for you, but this is the quickest, cheapest way to fill it."

"You know," he started, rounding the hood of the car and coming to stand beside her, arms crossed over his chest. "I haven't lived in the lap of luxury _all_ my life. There was the island, and what came after that, and I survived those five years without ever having to step foot into one of those," he finished, glaring again at the store entrance.

"That's right, Oliver, you _survived_, at either end of the spectrum," she countered, stretching her arms out wide, holding her hands as far apart as they would go. Looking to the right one, she said, "In the lap of luxury," and then to the left one, "Or in a crashed plane on Lian Yu, with a Russian mob detour and God knows wherever else that scary Waller lady sent you. " She turned her face back to his, bringing her hands back together and waving them about between them. "But what you've never done is _normal_."

"Felicity," he replied, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "As long as I'm the Arrow, you do know we're never going to have a normal life, right?"

She felt her cheeks heat at how easily he referred to _their_ life, and she had to mentally put the breaks on her mind careening out of control with scenarios of what all _their_ life could entail, beyond just arrows.

"Felicity?"

Recovering quickly, she took a deep breath and answered quietly, "I know that, but as you once told me, we all need to have secret identities. CEO is off the table now. Welcome to Average Joe."

"I don't know how to do normal, Felicity," he confessed, running a hand across the back of his neck. "I don't even know how to fake it."

"Pfft," she replied, dismissively waving her hand. "You faked being a CEO; normal is nothing. You just need a re-education."

"And you're going to be my teacher?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Well, yeah," she shrugged. "I'm just a normal girl, or at least I was until you walked through the IT Department door."

Suddenly, his big hand came up, cupping her cheek and then curling around her neck. She watched, fascinated, as his eyes warmed and his face softened, the corners of his mouth tipping up into a full-blown smile. Those were coming more often these days, and she liked them. More than she should.

"Felicity, I don't think you've ever been just a normal girl."

Cheeks burning, no doubt embarrassingly red, she quickly averted her face, staring at her shoes, as she buried his compliment somewhere deep, right alongside 'You're my partner,' 'You're not gonna lose me,' 'You'll always be my girl,' and 'I love you'.

She shuffled her feet, mumbling, "So, um, into the wild we go?"

Chuckling, his fingers tensed at her neck, pulling her closer until she felt his hot breath at her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "We get in there, don't you dare leave my side."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips, nor the snarky remark that followed. "There's a comm unit in my glove box, if it'll make you feel better."

"Normal, my ass," he grinned, his hand coming back to her face, his thumb swiping across her cheek in a rare caress, before he took a step back and offered her his outstretched elbow.

Twining her arm through his, she smiled brightly and tugged him forward. "Lesson one. Discount warehouse stores. Let's do this."

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	2. Game On

**The Re-Education of Oliver Queen**

**FF#2 / Chapter 2: Game On**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** Prompt #2: "Game On". Thanks SO MUCH for the awesome response to Chapter 1 here and on tumblr. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! And as always, heaping piles of gratitude to Sandra (dutchtreat) for her beta work.

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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"This will never work."

"Sorry?" Oliver replied, unable to summon more eloquent words in his shell-shocked state. With miles of flawless, pale skin on display in front of him, all of his higher brain functions had shut down as his blood detoured south, at warp speed.

"You call this game day attire?" Felicity snapped, hands on her hips, her glassless blue eyes assessing him, top to toe, from beneath the bill of a faded Starling City Rockets baseball cap.

"Uh, yeah," he answered, glancing down at his boots, jeans, and navy blue button down, untucked and rolled up to his elbows. Granted, his outfit was a far cry from Felicity's form fitting, navy blue Rockets tank top, cut off denim shorts and well-worn Chucks, but it was what he'd been wearing to Rockets games his entire life.

Felicity glared at him a few seconds longer, eyes narrowed, before turning her head and shouting behind her into the apartment, "Dig! One Hanes Beefy Tee and a Rockets jersey, STAT."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Oliver asked, drawing her attention back to him. "This is what I've always worn to games."

"That was when your family owned the team, Oliver, and you sat in the luxury boxes. The bleachers are no place for Prada dress shirts, Bespoke jeans and Balenciaga boots. Just the thought of beer soaked Prada makes me sick to my stomach," she said, scrunching up her nose and fingers while making a gagging noise. "I can't do anything about the jeans and boots but I can at least save the shirt."

"I told you I could call in a few favors and get us the luxury box seats," he replied, thinking at the same time that if the cheap seats got him Felicity in a tank top and cut offs, he'd take the bleachers any day of the week, even if it did cost him a designer shirt or two.

She was a beautiful woman, something he'd forced himself to ignore for the past year and half. But after the battle with Slade, after he'd been through the darkness and come out the other side, due in no small part to Felicity, and after he'd spoken the words he didn't realize were true until he'd said them aloud, he was finding it harder and harder to ignore the fact that she was one of the few bright spots in his life. And a very beautiful one at that.

"That defeats the purpose of normal," she reminded him, before her eyes darted away, avoiding his gaze, as she rushed through the rest of her explanation. "And I might have sort of been banned from the luxury boxes a few years back."

His brows rose in surprise. This was a story he had to hear. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned against the back of the couch in Dig and Lyla's living room, crossing his legs at his ankles and waiting for Felicity to continue.

When she remained silent, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, he prompted, "How exactly did you get banned from the Club Level at Papp Stadium?"

"I get loud at games."

"Plenty of people get loud at games, even on the Club Level."

"I get louder," she said, eyes still looking everywhere but at him, and he knew there had to be more to the story.

"The truth, Fe-li-ci-ty."

"Fine," she huffed, staring down at her feet. "Counting cards isn't the only thing I learned growing up in Vegas."

"You bet on games," he deduced, connecting the dots.

"I had a lot of student loans to pay off," she argued, looking up at him with earnest blue eyes. And then the words kept tumbling out, as her hands gesticulated wildly between them. "And baseball is a game of statistics, and I've always been good at math. And so I played the dumb blonde with boobs… Again, frat boys, you're all suckers… I got invited into the boxes and walked away with cash they didn't need. That is, until I got caught. So no more luxury boxes for me, but little do they know they're financing my season tickets in the bleachers. Not that I make it to half of the games these days, no thanks to you."

"Financing your tickets?" he asked, ignoring the multiple barbs she'd aimed at him in her rant, consciously or not. Watching her babble on about baseball and fleecing frat boys, while dressed in a tank and cut off shorts, erased the sting and had the corners of his mouth turning up more than usual.

"Fantasy baseball," she shrugged. "In an online game that is entirely based on statistics, I can take their money and they don't even know my name or have a chance to guess my cup size. Win-win," she finished with a clap.

"You think you're that good?" Oliver said, pushing off the couch and coming to stand in front of her.

"There's no thinking about it," she sassed, chin lifted in defiance, eyes narrowed, hands on her hips.

She looked so smug, so sure of herself, and he knew she had reason to be, but he couldn't resist. She'd effectively laid down the gauntlet, and even though he was ninety-nine percent certain that he was going to lose, he couldn't ignore the challenge.

Wasn't this what normal people did? Make friendly bets here and there over sporting events? It's what he did, before the Island. And it sure seemed a lot more normal than betting on their likelihood of survival each time they went out on a mission.

"Alright then, care to make a little wager on today's game?"

"What exactly are we betting on and what are the stakes?" she countered, stepping closer, leaving less than an inch of space between them.

"Dealer's choice," he replied, holding her gaze, giving away nothing.

"Game on," she answered, grinning wickedly, before turning and stomping down the hallway, her blond ponytail, pulled through the back of the baseball cap, swishing about as she hollered again for Dig.

He couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped his lips or the grin that remained as he watched her flounce about their partner's apartment, shouting orders.

"You know, I didn't believe it when Johnny told me."

Startled, Oliver twisted his torso, finding Lyla, dressed in jeans and a Rockets jersey, leaning a shoulder against the archway to the kitchen. For someone usually so intense, she looked peaceful, right at home, standing there with her hands wrapped around a mug of what he guessed was ginger tea, if the fragrance wafting in the air was any indication.

"Didn't believe what?" he replied, moving to sit on the arm of the couch facing Lyla.

She grinned into her mug of tea, taking a sip before answering, "That Oliver Queen, _the Arrow_, of all people, could somehow manage to look like a love-sick idiot."

Oliver dropped his head, chuckling softly. Unsurprisingly, Lyla was proving to be just as perceptive as Dig, perhaps more so. That or he was getting worse at hiding his emotions when it came to Felicity.

"How're you feeling?" Oliver asked, changing the subject.

Lyla remained quiet for a moment, head tilted slightly, no doubt deciding whether or not to let him off the hook, before she answered, "Not too bad. Morning sickness has mostly passed, finally. Tea helps," she said, holding up the mug.

"You going to be okay today?"

"Can't say for sure how I'm going to do with all the ballpark smells, but I'm going stir crazy cooped up in here. The first trimester was rough, so John's still in over-protective hyper drive."

"I heard that," Dig's rumbly voice came from just behind them, a second before a white tee shirt was hurtled in Oliver's direction. "Boss's orders."

"I thought I was the boss," Oliver replied, standing up from the armrest.

"Not today," Felicity said, barreling toward him with a determined glare and what appeared to be a Rockets jersey slung over her shoulder. "Go, change," she ordered, throwing an arm out toward the hall restroom.

"And what if I don't?" he challenged, amused and wanting to see how far he could push her.

She strode directly up to him, less than an inch away again. "Teacher," she said, pointing a finger at herself, and then turning it on him with a stern, "Student."

"I'm sure you already know how many times I flunked out," he countered.

"This is not a lesson you are going to fail, Mister, and we have a bet to settle on," she said, shoving the jersey in his hands, something more passing between them when their fingers grazed each others. She rushed to cover her barely audible gasp. "Now go, strip, before I have to do it myself."

Both of his eyebrows shot up, as Felicity turned bright red and pretended to start counting.

"I did not just say that," she mumbled, covering her face with her hands, while Dig and Lyla laughed out loud.

Leaning closer, Oliver brought his lips to her ear and lowered his voice. "You wouldn't be the first teacher who said that to me," he whispered.

She gasped again, this one definitely louder, and her face grew several shades redder, making her impossibly more beautiful.

He turned on his heel with a broad smile and headed for the bathroom, determined not to fail this lesson and happily resigned to lose a bet and to look like the love-sick idiot everyone already knew him to be.

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	3. Too Far, Too Fast

**The Re-Education of Oliver Queen**

**FF#3 / Chapter 3: Too Far, Too Fast**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** And we're back, with Prompt #3: Too Far, Too Fast! Many thanks for the continued likes, reblogs, alerts and interest in this story while my real life went a little gonzo. Previously posted on tumblr, now polished with my lovely beta, Sandra's (dutchtreat), assistance. Hope you enjoy ;)

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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She'd lost.

Oliver Former-One-Percenter Queen was now among the one percent of people with whom she'd made a baseball bet and lost. On a total fluke no less – the second baseman and right fielder colliding in the outfield as they both went after a fly ball that should have been an easy out instead of a two run double.

After, on their way out of Papp Stadium, seeing a smug grin stretched wide across Oliver's face, she'd regretted not agreeing on stakes ahead of time. She'd been so confident that she'd win that she hadn't thought it necessary. She had the track record to back her up.

If there was one thing she should have counted on, it was Oliver Queen being the exception.

Her regret, though, gave way to hope, as one week turned into two and then into three without Oliver mentioning the game or their bet again. Maybe, _hopefully_, he'd forgotten. They'd had a busy few weeks, converting Oliver's secondary lair into their primary base of Arrow operations, settling into a new routine and tracking each and every lead that came through on Thea's whereabouts.

It had been after midnight when she'd left the lair last night, looking forward to a rare day off, their wager the furthest thing from her mind. Until she'd stepped out of her shower to a text message from Oliver.

_Collecting on our bet tomorrow. You didn't think I'd forget, did you? Meet at your place at dawn. Dress casual, NO HEELS. _

Which was how Felicity found herself sitting on her front porch steps, denim-clad legs stretched out before her, sneakered feet impatiently tapping against one another, as she sipped coffee from a thermos and watched the sun rise over Starling City.

It was a half hour past dawn when she heard the familiar roar of a Ducati approaching, louder than usual on the otherwise quiet Saturday morning. Standing, she loosely capped the thermos and waited for Oliver to pull to a stop in front of her, ignoring the involuntary tingle that always shot through her whenever she caught a glimpse of him on the bike.

Today, though, was definitely a two-tingle day...

Oliver was dressed down, in a snug pair of faded jeans, scuffed motorcycle boots, fitted black leather riding jacket and a dark grey t-shirt from what she could see underneath the open collar. And heaven help her, when he took off his helmet, she could see the ends of his hair were still damp and he had yet to shave the now three-day-old scruff covering his jaw and chin.

Not that she was counting or anything.

Swallowing hard and hoping he'd attribute her blush to the warmth of the coffee, Felicity met him at the foot of the steps, holding the thermos out to him. "You want to finish this while I go get my car keys?"

"No need," he replied, that same devious look on his face that he'd worn the day he'd won their bet.

"Sorry, I'm confused," she said, with a shake of her head and another guzzle of coffee for herself, hoping for clarity with more caffeine.

Chuckling, Oliver rotated his torso away from her, reaching an arm over the seat of the bike and then coming back around with a fuchsia-colored helmet.

"We're taking the Duc," he grinned, handing her the helmet and taking the thermos right out of her hand.

Fuck tingles. Full body tremors were a distinct possibility.

"You want _me_ to ride on _that_ with _you_?" she stuttered, eyes darting back and forth between the brightly colored helmet in her hands and Oliver, who was leaning casually against the bike and sipping coffee from her thermos.

"That helmet matches your favorite lipstick, doesn't it?" he queried back with a wink.

He'd noticed. And he'd bought her a helmet, _for his bike_, that matched. Yep, her knees were going to give way at any moment.

Eyes growing wide, she watched as Oliver capped the thermos securely and tucked it into the rather large satchel attached to the side of the bike. At that peculiar sight, her brain finally caught up to her weakening resolve.

"Assuming I get on that bike with you, where exactly are we going and what does this have to do with our bet?"

"Hiking," he answered, slinging a leg over the seat to straddle the Duc and looking back at her expectantly.

"Hiking?" she squeaked, suddenly horror-stricken.

"Well," he started, crossing his arms over his chest, "I thought about tandem bungee jumping, because I know how much you love heights, but that's apparently outlawed here in the States now, and it's not exactly _normal_, so in the spirit of my re-education, _hiking_. And after you demanded I put an arrow in a spider that crawled across your desk last week, I figured this was the next best thing to heights, or worst if we look at it from your point of view."

"This is _so_ not fair," Felicity pouted, closing her eyes and resting her chin on the helmet she'd clutched to her chest at the mere mention of last week's spider attack.

Not even a ride with Oliver, in all of his denim and leather clad glory, on the back of a fine piece of Italian automotive craftsmanship, was worth traipsing around a bug-infested forest and probably, because she had the worst luck ever, stepping on a landmine.

"I don't think there are landmines in this part of the world, Felicity," Oliver chuckled.

"I said all of that out loud, didn't I?" she groaned, looking up at him sheepishly.

"Yep," he grinned. "You're not going to welch on a bet now, are you?"

"Which you shouldn't have won in the first place," she countered, anger flaring again at the fluke that caused all of this trouble.

"How about I soften the blow a little?" he offered, turning away again to pull something else out of the satchel.

As much as she already secretly loved her fuchsia helmet, what he came back with this time was infinitely better. "What if Pichon Baron joins us?" he said, holding aloft a bottle of Bordeaux that she knew cost at least four figures.

"Too far, Oliver. That's not exactly normal," she replied, fighting a grin at the corners of her mouth.

"So I cheated a little," he shrugged, tucking the bottle back into the satchel before offering his hand to her. "Come on, Felicity. If I can brave Costco, then surely, me in all of my denim and leather clad glory, the Duc and bottle of '82 Bordeaux is enough to get you over a few bugs."

Finally letting loose the grin she'd been fighting, Felicity smiled full on as she zipped up her jacket, donned her new helmet and climbed onto the bike behind Oliver, resting her hands on his hips.

Cranking up the bike with one hand, he used his other to grab first her right and then her left wrist, pulling her arms all the way around his middle and drawing her body snug against his back.

"Hold on, tight," he smirked, before closing the visor of his own helmet, gunning the engine and taking off like a shot from the curb.

"Too fast!" she yelped, doubting that Oliver could even hear her over the roar of the bike.

She hoped he couldn't feel her tremble either.

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	4. Nothing to Hide

**The Re-Education of Oliver Queen**

**FF#8 / Chapter 4: Nothing to Hide**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** Jumping ahead to Prompt #8: Nothing to Hide, and continuing on from the last chapter! Thanks again to Sandra (dutchtreat) for the beta work! Hope you enjoy this one too ;)

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

* * *

"I feel like Lucky the Leprechaun."

"Excuse me?" Oliver chuckled, glancing over at Felicity.

"The guy on the Lucky Charms box," she quipped, wriggling her bare toes as she polished off her third glass of wine. "Amazing wine, great view, an ex-billionaire, vigilante for company. Pot o' gold."

"I know who he is, Felicity."

_And right now, you look nothing like him_, his mind added, his gaze lingering on the woman sitting across the smoldering campfire from him.

Wine glass in hand, her legs were stretched out in front of her, socks and shoes off, an arm braced behind her. Her long blonde hair had escaped its ponytail confines and was falling in loose curls over her shoulders, a riot of gold in the midday sun, and her cheeks were tinted bright pink, whether from the sun, the fire or the wine, Oliver didn't know nor did he care.

Beautiful, _yes_, more so than ever. Tiny green leprechaun, _not even close_.

"How did you even find this place?" she asked, wonder coloring her voice, before it took on a teasing tone. "Don't get me wrong, the hike up here was brutal, and I was about two seconds away from resigning from Team Arrow all together, until we stepped out of the woods to this," she said, throwing out an arm at the wide expanse of ocean before them, the sound of its waves crashing against the cliff face below.

"Tommy," he answered, his eyes drifting out over ocean, letting it soothe the pang of sadness that always came when remembering his best friend. "We were twelve or so, on a camping trip with our dads. They were talking business, we got bored and wandered off, found this place."

"And how many girls did you and Tommy bring up here over the years?" she asked, lifting a brow.

"Only Mary-Jane," he winked. "Shared our last dance together here."

She laughed at that, full-bodied and bright, her face tipped up to the sun, and Oliver's smile grew wider.

He liked this, _a lot_, seeing her out of the lair and in the bright sunshine, happy, laughing and carefree. No hunch to her shoulders, no crease between her eyes, no cuts on her head or bullet holes in her body. He knew it wouldn't last, that this was a stolen moment in their otherwise crazy lives, but he'd take it, for her sake and his.

Standing, wine bottle in hand, he walked around the small campfire where he'd cooked their lunch and lowered himself to the ground beside her.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, the shift in her tone automatically causing him to tense.

"Shoot," he replied, trying to remain calm as he refilled her glass. "I've got nothing to hide from you, Felicity. Not anymore."

Eyes darting up, her blues locked with his for a brief moment, before skirting over his shoulder to the woods. "Does this bother you? Being out here in the wilderness?"

She'd been thinking about Lian Yu, he realized, how their hike might've reminded him of his time on the Island, which, oddly enough, had barely crossed his mind. Sure, he'd cut through the forest faster than most, dragging her by her hand behind him, and he'd caught their lunch with an arrow and cooked it on their campfire, all things he'd learned from Yao Fei and Shado, but those survival skills had been the extent of his thoughts today. A year ago, he would have made the hike completely lost in his memories, and not the good ones.

"Before Slade, yes," he told her, taking a drink directly from the bottle and noticing the ghost of a shiver run through her. "But now, I can enjoy the peacefulness it offers, the simplicity of getting back to basics, the normalcy of it," he said, bumping his shoulder against hers. "I can appreciate the good parts, now and then."

"Shado," she murmured into her wine glass.

Oliver nodded, a small smile flitting across his face.

"Tell me about her?" Felicity asked, curious eyes glancing at him over the rim of her glass. "I mean, only if you want to," she hurried on. "I know bits and pieces, but most of what I know is from the ramblings of a mad man, and that smile on your face just now tells me there were more good parts than bad."

"Nothing to hide, Felicity," Oliver gently reminded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She turned her head, glancing down at his hand, and when her lips barely missed brushing his knuckles, he fought to breathe evenly.

"Go on," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his skin.

Swallowing hard, he struggled to find his voice and reluctantly removed his hand, his fingers trailing down her arm and back to the wine bottle between his legs, both hands wrapping around its neck as he looked to the water.

"She was a contradiction," he started, taking another drink from the bottle. "Petite, shorter than you even, with long dark hair and pale skin, exotic. Fragile at first glance, and yet she could still kick my ass with one hand tied behind her back. Probably both. Caring, a huge heart, but also fierce, decisive when she had to be. Loyal to a fault and not afraid of anything. I loved her," he confessed quietly, and then chuckled. "I also spent a good part of the time scared to death of her."

Expecting laughter, Oliver was surprised when pain, clear as day, flashed through Felicity's eyes right before she turned her face away.

"Felicity?" he called her name, hand going back to her shoulder.

Lifting her glass, he watched as she took another healthy swallow of wine. "Slade was right about one thing."

"What's that?" he asked, fingers tensing, digging into her skin.

"You have a type, Oliver. Strong women. Laurel, Shado, McKenna, Sara, even Helena and Isabel." She shook her head, and though in profile, he could see the tears in her eyes. A harsh, bitter laugh escaped her lips, along with one muttered word, "Unthinkable."

And that's when he understood.

Slade's words at the refinery, her words on the beach, coming back to him.

She was setting herself apart from the other women in his past, thinking that she was somehow weaker.

She couldn't be further from the truth.

Setting the bottle aside, Oliver shifted, leaving his one hand on Felicity's shoulder and using his other to grasp her chin, turning her face back to his. "Hey," he said softly, letting his hand drift from her chin to her cheek. "You are the strongest woman I know, Felicity."

"Oliver," she whispered, and he felt heat bloom beneath his palm.

"How many times have you pulled me back from the edge, Felicity? I wouldn't be here today, I wouldn't be the hero you always knew I could be, if it weren't for you. _You_ saved this City, Felicity Smoak, and you saved me."

Eyes widening, they shined at him with that same light they'd always offered him, a gift that he was finally ready to accept. Sliding his other hand up from her shoulder, he framed her face, pulling her closer.

Her fingers curled around his wrists, her thumbs skimming against the backs of his hands. "_We_ saved this City," she smiled, voice thick with tears that escaped to run down her face.

Leaning forward, he kissed one away from her cheek, lips lingering there, as his thumb wiped away the other. Breath held, he angled his face in, toward the lips he'd wanted to kiss for far too long.

And then suddenly she was gone, pulling away and out of his arms. A half second later, the sound of their cell phones, the emergency ringtone tone from Diggle, cut through the rush of blood in Oliver's ears and silenced the curse that was on the tip of his tongue.

Felicity answered first, and at the mention of his sister's name, Oliver was hauling them both up off the ground, stamping out the smoldering embers of their fire and packing up the remains of their campsite.

"Thea's been spotted," Felicity relayed, as soon as she hung up with Dig. "Boarding a transatlantic flight to Central City, under the name Mia Dearden. Lyla is calling Waller now. She'll have the plane ready."

Felicity started ahead of him into the woods, but then Oliver grabbed her by the wrist, turning her around and locking his blue eyes with hers.

"Felicity," he began, only to be cut off by her hand laid over his heart, her eyes aimed up at him with that light he'd come to count on.

"Oliver, it's Thea. We have to go. _Now_."

"Strong," he affirmed, leaning forward to press a firm, quick kiss to her forehead. "And we will finish this conversation."

"I'm counting on it," she replied, pulling back and smiling up at him. "Now, let's bring home your sister."

When they got back to the bike, even with their peaceful calm quickly dissolving, Oliver couldn't help but smirk as Felicity pulled on the fuchsia helmet he'd spotted in a store last week and bought for her without a second thought. His smirk turned into a grin when she wound her arms around his middle without prompting and held on tight.

Oliver liked the way she felt behind him on the bike, pressed snug against his back.

He liked the way she trembled even more.

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